The Dark Knight Legacy
by Deanna Janeway
Summary: Leads off from The Dark Knight Rises, Blake as Nightwing. New character based on Jason Todd. Having some reviews would be great, Bruce/Selina
1. Do You Remember?

"Do you remember him?" A voice came out of the shadow, landing on the shoulders of the three in the alley like a blanket. A woman stood, hands clutching her purse, pressed against the grimy brick wall by a filthy hand, taking away her ability to scream. Her captors looked around in the darkness, the beanies on their heads dully reflecting the light from the street lamps. "Him," the voice said again, and a signal lit up the night. All heads turned to the light, scanning across the cloudy sky. It was the bat-signal. The thieves looked at each other, still holding the woman to the wall. "He left a Legacy," the voice called out. The woman's eyes darted back and forth through the dark. A shadowy figure dropped from above onto one of the captors, knocking him out cold. The other tried to defend himself but the stranger's skill was incomparable. The stranger hit the captors face with the back of his fist, and the man slumped. Slowly, the stranger turned toward the woman. His eyes were hidden, his body covered in darkness.

"Who are you?" She asked, finally relaxing from her ordeal. The stranger turned to look towards the signal.

"I am Batman's legacy." He looked back at the woman, his hair shining in the lamplight. "I'm Nightwing."


	2. Life Goes On

He hit the bag, over and over again, the skin on his knuckles hardening with each pound. The brown bag swayed softly, dust coming off of it with every collision. The TV blared in the next room, set high enough that he could listen while he practiced. "Honey?" His wife called from the next room. She walked through the doorway towards him and he momentarily stopped. Her heels clicked on the wooden floorboards, and a string of pearls bounced softly around her neck. "Why do you keep training?" She leant against the punching bag, her brown hair draped over her shoulders.

"They might need me again someday." He said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

From the next room, the TV continued to blare. He could hear a news reporter. "Gotham's new vigilante… Calls himself Nightwing." His ears perked. His wife turned to the next room.

"It doesn't sound like it Bruce." She said, kissing him on the cheek.

* * *

"Excuse me sir." Alfred called, walking down a few remaining steps with a tray. "Young Master Blake, your presence is required upstairs. After breakfast of course." The old butler smiled softly and lowered the tray onto a table.

"I'll be there in a minute Alfred." Robin Blake said, pulling a button-down shirt on. He did the buttons while approaching the breakfast tray. "So what is it today?" He asked excitedly, rubbing his hands together. Alfred swiftly removed the cover from the food in a typical butler style.

"Bacon and a sesame seed bagel, sir." Alfred flicked a napkin and laid it in Robin's lap. "Jus' the way you like it."

"Thanks Alfred." He piled some of the food into his mouth. After a few bites, he cleared his throat. "Um, what exactly am I needed for upstairs?" He looked up at Alfred questioningly, fork and bacon resting in the air. The boy's home still resided here, and he was normally called in for behavioural issues. He was like the boy's big brother.

Alfred frowned almost imperceptibly. "One of the boys is aging up, and 'e wanted to say good-bye." The butler folded his arms and looked at his feet. He was the one who cared the most about the boys. He had helped them with their fear, their grief. He tried so hard to make each boy's life a bit better than it had been. Because of him, the boys smiled when they ran through the halls. The boys picked themselves up, and they knew why they fell. So naturally, he was always affected the most, after the boys themselves, when they aged up.

"Oh," Blake said, rising to his feet and dabbing at his face with the napkin. "Then breakfast can wait."


	3. Gotham's New Vigilante

"So, Gotham's new vigilante?" Chase Meridian sat in her armchair, reading through the Gotham Times. A fire crackled in the room, and she crossed her legs. "That's not Bruce." She lowered the paper dramatically. Tapping her fingers, she looked towards the window. Her platinum blonde curls bounced on her shoulders as she watched the bat signal sweep across the clouds. "Where are you Bats?"

* * *

"I hear you've aged up." Blake said softly, sitting next to a thin, brown-haired boy. The boy ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

"Yup. I'm 18 today." He leant back on the wooden bench and stretched his legs out.

"Happy Birthday Jason," Blake said. Jason smiled sadly, folding his hands in his lap.

Focusing on his folded hands, he replied. "It's a sad thing. I've lived here for most of my life." His eyes began to twinkle with unshed tears. Wiping a hand across his face, he laughed nervously. "I just…" He paused. "I obviously don't have anyone out there…" He trailed off, shaking his head in defeat. Blake put a hand on his shoulder, and the young boy went on. "I don't know where to go." He looked to Blake for guidance, but he could only see the sadness in his eyes.

"I'll miss you, Jase." He waited for Jason to wipe his face once more, then continued. "And you know that there will always be a place here for you. But we can't give you what you need." He paused for emphasis. "Only you can do that."

Jason nodded and looked at his hands again. A boy ran through the hallway after a ball, sneakers squeaking on the shiny floor. He grabbed the ball and ran back to where he came, giving Jason a quick wave. The young man waved back seriously.

"I'm going to enlist in the police force." Jason looked at Blake. "Is it worth it?"

"As long as there aren't any loons? Every second."


	4. A Burning World

"Jewellery Store robbery. The narrows." A tinny voice squealed out of a cop radio. Blake listened intently, noting the address. He pulled the spandex Nightwing costume on and zipped it up his back like a wetsuit. Donning his mask, he remembered the words of his friend, long ago. His friend had looked at him seriously and said, "If you're going out there, you _must _wear a mask. Not for you, but to protect the people you most care about." At the time, Blake didn't understand. How could he, being who he was? Raised in a boy's home, living alone, who would he need to protect?

But now he understood. He would always wear a mask when fighting. Alfred had become his greatest friend, and Blake looked up to him as a son would his father. All of the boys in the home held a special place in his heart, and if anything happened to them, he would never be able to forgive himself. This is why he wears a mask.

Swiftly, Blake slid twin truncheons into slots on his back and revved the engine on his Harley. It was night and the boys would be asleep, but they wouldn't be able to hear it. Blake kept all of his Nightwing stuff underground, where he had found the batcave a year ago. A gushing waterfall conceiled it's entrance. So far, he had been the only one to find it.

He twisted the handlebar and the Harley roared out of the cave, through the waterfall, gaining air, and landing on the banks of a river outside. But he didn't spend any time looking at the scenery. He had a crook to catch.

* * *

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" A man said, a mask over his face. He held a gun casually at his waist.

"Becauuuse," A voice drawled out , enounciating every sound. "I beat the Bat." A man turned around, a rifle resting on his shoulder. His hair was green, as though he spent a lifetime in a chlorinated pool. His face was pale and his eyes were dark, even more so that he had coal around them. "But I haven't beaten this guy." As he said it, his mouth contorted, so that a pair of erratic scars showed themselves upon his cheeks. "And I wanna know," he smiled sinisterly. "Wether he's got what it takes," He pulled a remote control from his pocket. "To save Gotham," He pressed the button. A building erupted into a raging inferno behind him, the flames licking at the windows. "Or if he'll just watch the world burn."


	5. Ashes and Ashes

Glass tinkled to the floor as a man with a crowbar smashed case after case in the jewellery store. He had a sock on his head and a gun in his other hand, and he smashed the cases with a maniancal grin on his warped face. He shovelled handful after handful of watches, rings, and jewels into a sack hanging from his belt. He lifted up his arm to smash another case and felt the crowbar slip out of his hand.

"I think you'll be needing this," he spun around and came face to face with a masked do-gooder in spandex.

"Who the hell're you?" The guy asked, cocking the top of his Glock with a metallic click.

"Nightwing." Nightwing shook his head, his hair splaying. "You'd think a guy like you'd remember that." Before the thug could pull the trigger on his hand gun, Nightwing reached behind his back and withdrew two blue truncheons. A second was all it took for Nightwing to bring one of the truncheons down onto the crook's wrist, the other across his stomach. The baddie immediately dropped the gun and doubled over, to which Nightwing brought the truncheons down on his back. The man fell to the ground, limp. Satisfied, Nightwing took a length of rope and wrapped the guy up like a spider would a fly.

"Explosion on South 88th Street," a voice reported. Nightwing was wearing an earpiece tuned to the police radio frequency, and he stood alert as it went on. "Supposedly a Joker comeback, no hostages, perpetrators left the scene, armed and dangerous."

He sprinted towards his Harley and gunned the engine.

* * *

"You're too young, son." The chief of police was a burly man in his late fifties, and looked down on Jason through his overgrown moustache. "You've got your whole life ahead of you, kid. Don't waste it." And the door shut in his face. Jason had been through a life of terror, pain, and disappointment. But to have his dreams crushed so swiftly, well that was almost worse.

He turned around and walked down the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. He saw a tin can lying in his path and he kicked it. Somehow, in a way that Jason couldn't seem to fathom, it reminded him of his childhood. More specifically, his childhood with the Gotham City Circus. The Mightiest show on Earth. It was there, swinging from bar to trapeze and back again, that he felt most free. He had run away from his foster parents, and it was a good life. His worries would vanish when he would perform, his mind only concentrating on what he had to do the next second.

But none of that mattered now. Now he was just a lonely boy, looking for his purpose in the back streets of Gotham. He shuffled down the road some more, not really knowing where to go. His one hope had been the police force. And his one hope had vanished. All he had wanted to do was help people, and that want had been denied.

All of a sudden, Jason heard someone scream. It was terrible, the sharp, desperate scream that a mother makes when their child is taken. He ran towards it, hesitantly at first, then quicker and quicker, his feet thumping against the pavement. As he rounded the corner, the screaming increased its intensity. Now he could see a woman kneeling, cradling a young boy. He sprinted towards her and crouched, assessing the situation. "What happened?" He questioned, calmly looking into the eyes of the hysteric woman.

She looked around frighteningly for a second, and then turned to Jason, half-shouting, "They killed my baby! They… They killed my baby!" Her shrieks turned into sobs and tears streamed down her face.

"Who?" He asked urgently, checking the child for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief. The boy was alive.

"There was a clown… he had a… a…" The woman tried to think of the word, mouthing meaningless syllables. "He had a knife…"

Jason peeled back the boy's hands and saw that he was clutching a knife wound that was bleeding all over his shirt. He winced and checked for the pulse again. "He's not dead." He looked at the mother, willing her to calm down. "But we need to get him to the hospital right away." The mother nodded. "Do you have a car?" She shook her head no, tears spilling from her red-rimmed eyes. "Ok," he paused, "So here's what we're going to do. I'll run him to the hospital, and you go down the block and tell them what's happened." He looked at her, trying to understand her sudden silence. It was probably shock. "Can you do that for me? For your son?" She nodded and held her arms out, passing the boy to Jason. He wrapped the boys jacket tighter around the bleeding wound then stood up. "I've got to run, so you've got to run, too." She nodded and stepped backwards, then turned and started to run. The hospital was just down the road. Jason started running.


	6. A Promise

"Bruce, you've got to stop working so hard!" Selina berated him. They were standing at the kitchen sink of their modest suburban home, water pouring out of the faucet onto Bruce's bleeding knuckles. "How did you even do this?" She asked, washing his hands with soap.

"I was punching a bag again." He said. One of Selina's eyebrows shot up incredulously. "It was a hard bag," he said defensively.

"Sometimes I wonder about you," Selina said slowly, leaning against the counter. "You've got this amazing new life ahead of you. All these things you've never experienced. But you still want to spend day after day training for something that you _used _to be." He shut the water off and wiped his hands on a towel. She looked into his eyes and could see the hero that he used to be, how it almost killed him in the end. She could also see the hero that he had become. Her hero. "Is something bothering you?"

"It's nothing," he said, waving one of his hands through the air. "Really. It isn't important." He tossed the towel onto the counter. Leaning back, he exhaled relaxingly.

"It's Rachel, isn't it?" Selina looked at him knowingly.

"No." He smiled as he spoke the truth. This had been the first time since she had died that it hadn't bothered him. He chuckled quietly, flashing his smile, and pulled Selina closer to him by her waist. He looked into her eyes and tucked the same piece of hair behind her ear, tracing her ear with his finger. He tilted his head and kissed her softly. Her hands moved into his hair and she kissed him back. He pulled her close, his hands on her waist again. He kissed her once more then laid his cheek on her head. "It's not Rachel. I promise."


	7. Familiar Faces

The Harley roared down the street. South 88th street was bare. Nightwing searched both sides of it for anything at all. No Joker, no explosions, no burnt rubble. He was just beginning to think that he was on the wrong street when he saw a young man sprinting awkwardly away from him. He drove into a side alley and parked the Harley. Climbing a fire escape, his truncheons pressed against his back and made it difficult to climb properly. Soon, however, he was sprinting across rooftops, so as to be ahead of the boy who was running away. Deftly dropping from the roof, Nightwing landed quietly. He peeked around the corner to see the boy, and then he stepped out.

Instead of turning around as he suspected, the boy continued to run towards him, even quicker now.

"Help!" The boy yelled, still running awkwardly. "This kid needs help!" Now that he had said it, Nightwing could see. The young man was carrying a boy in his arms.

Nightwing closed the distance between them quickly. "What happened?" He asked as he approached.

"The mother said something about a clown," The young man said, in an eerily familiar voice. "He was stabbed, I think." He continued to run, Nightwing running beside him.

"Jason?" He gasped. The boy that had aged up the day before. The boy stopped running and looked at Nightwing dubiously.

"Blake?" Jason looked confused, and then shook his head. "Listen, I don't care. I just need to get this kid to the hospital." Nightwing nodded.

"I'll be right back," he said, and he sprinted in the opposite direction.

Jason kept going towards the hospital. The young boy's face contorted in his arms. He could feel the blood soaking into his shirt, making it stick to his skin. The boy's face was losing colour too. All Jason could hear was the sound of his own footsteps, and the rapid breathing of the child. Suddenly, a roaring motor added to the noise. Jason slowed, and then turned.

A single beam of light cut through the dim, and a few seconds later Nightwing pulled up next to Jason, atop his Harley.

"Get on, kid." Nightwing said. Jason did as he was told, manouvreing the child so they all sat. In seconds, the Harley was reaching top speed again, this time on its way to the hospital.

* * *

"You're crazy," a gruff voice spoke accusingly. "I can't believe you would stab a kid."

"What has to be done has to be done," The joker replied, almost cheerfully.

"You're still crazy," his goon replied.

"No. I'm not." He said slowly, pronouncing the 'T' as if it hurt. "And I have other guys like you," he said, grabbing his goon's face in his hands. "Who would _kill _to be as _sane _as me." A look of wonder crossed his face, and with one hand, he pulled a knife from his pocket. "By the way," he paused, putting the knife in the thug's mouth. The thug's eyes darted back and forth, and his brow began to sweat. "Did I ever tell you the story of how I got these scars?"


	8. The Waiting Game

Jason had no idea what he was doing. He was sitting in a chair next to the boy that he had saved, who was now asleep on his hospital bed. The doctors had sewn him up, and had asked question after question that Jason couldn't answer. He felt as though his presence wasn't needed, but he didn't want to leave the kid alone, especially since his mother wasn't here yet. _Where is she? _He thought to himself, picking at a sticker on the armrest of his chair. He automatically thought the worst, and he hated himself for that. The clock in the room ticked away rhythmically, and the heart rate monitor beeped continuously. Jason felt his eyelids begin to droop, and he let sleep take hold of his weary body.

* * *

"Alfred, I saw Jason while I was out." Blake leant over his desk in the Batcave, drinking red wine.

Alfred's posture stiffened as he dusted the main computer. "Is that so?" He stopped.

"Nothing like that Alfred. Don't worry." He paused, swirling the wine in the bottom of his glass. "He's a good kid." He sat, thinking for a second. "But he knows its me." Blake emptied his glass and laid his head on the table. "What do I do?" He groaned out from between his arms.

Alfred walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I think sir, that this time, you don't do anything." Blake looked up at him, confused. "You wait an' see what 'e does first."

* * *

"Bruce?" Selina asked, caressing his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He responded, opening his sleepy eyes, and making his pillow more comfortable.

"I have something to tell you." She smiled. "Promise you won't fall asleep?" He smiled cheekily.

"I promise," He said, crossing his heart over his bare chest.

Selina picked at the hem of her pyjama sleeve, her hair spilling over her pillow like liquid. "Ok. Well, you remember when we lived in Gotham? And all I wanted was a clean slate?" Bruce smiled again and nodded. "Well, I've had it for a year now, and I realized…" She trailed off.

"What is it?" He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, I've realized that it's not what I needed." Bruce looked at her curiously, and she explained. "What I needed… What I needed to turn my life around… It was you." She looked into his eyes and he gazed back at her.

"I love you too, Selina." He said, as he intertwined his fingers with hers. He could feel her wedding band, and for a moment, sadness overcame him. Upon arriving in England, Bruce and Selina had only said they were married and slipped on Thomas and Martha Wayne's old rings. There was no real marriage. "Selina?" Bruce asked, tucking the piece of hair behind her ear again. "Will you marry me?"


	9. A Storm is Coming

"It's all part of the plan." The Joker said, licking his lips quickly.

"Whaddya mean boss?" A deep voiced gunman asked from across a long table.

"We take what's closest to him. Nightwing. The Batman wannabe." He paused. "I'm thinking about the Harley." He pursed his lips and looked around the table. "Any ideas on who else? This guys not really a social butterfly, is he?" The men around the table nodded in agreement. "Well," The Joker continued. "We take what's closest to him, and we crush it."

* * *

It was beginning to rain. Jason had walked all the way to Wayne Manor, the boy's home. The gravel drive was wet, and he wiped his feet on the welcome mat courteously. His fingers slipped around the cool brass of the door knocker, and he banged it against the thick wooden door three times. He stepped back, the rain now falling hard, and looked upwards. The lights were on. The boys weren't asleep yet.

The door creaked open slowly, and an old, familiar butler poked his head out. "Ah, hello sir!" He said, opening the door fully.

"Hello Alfred. It's good to see you." He paused, listening to the rain fall. "Is Blake there?"

* * *

"Master Blake?" Blake was sitting at his desk, fiddling with a small piece of machinery. He screwed something onto it and rotated a piece.

"Yeah?" He asked, not looking up from his work.

A pair of footsteps descended the stairs and stopped behind him. "You have a visitor."

"Ok," he said, getting up, but still not looking up from his work. "I'll be right there."

"No need," Alfred said, and Blake turned. Jason was standing next to him at about shoulder height. Blake looked at him, shocked, his mouth opening to say something, but Jason cut in.

"Its ok, Blake." He smiled, and his eyes shined with excitement. "I knew it was you." He walked the few steps toward Blake and embraced him in a boyish hug. "You would not believe how my first day out went."

Blake laughed softly. "I think I might." They peeled apart, Jason's shirt still bloody from his day.

"You sir," Alfred said to Jason, "Need to take a shower." He held out a towel and Jason grouchily obliged.


	10. A Rose By Any Other Name

Their hands were laced together over the table, a public confession of their love. Selina's hair moved slightly with the wind from under her broad rimmed sun hat. Bruce smiled at her, and brushed a hand though his hair. "Bruce?"

"Yeah?" Selina had a worried look on her face.

"If we get a real marriage, and I licence, and that sort of thing… Wont the chief of police be notified?" Her eyes filled with worry. They had both left a lot behind, but they didn't want to go back to Gotham.

He frowned thoughtfully. "We'll have to use different names…" He said, looking at her cheekily.

"Like?" She challenged, knowing how this would turn out.

"Well," Bruce started, "You could be Bonnie, and I could be Clyde, or you could be Minnie, and I could be Mickey, or you could be Martha, and I could be Stewart, or—"

"Seriously, Bruce." She laughed at his straight face. "How are we going to do this?"

He thought for a second. "How about…" He lost his train of thought. "Why don't we just pick a name we've always wanted to have?"

"Ok." A moment passed while she thought, twirling some hair around her fingers. "Alright, I've got mine, but you go first."

"No, no, Ladies first." He smiled, waving his hands in defeat.

"Age before beauty." She said, looking at him expectantly. He burst out laughing and thought for a minute.

"Ok." He rubbed his temples, as if to stimulate brain function. "Well," He shrugged. "I've always been envious of Detective Gordon's name…" He looked into the distance. "Or maybe it was his uniform." He expected a laugh, but instead he saw Selina's serious glare. "Ok, ok. I'll be Christian Borton."

"It suits you," Selina noted from the other side of the table.

"And you are?" Bruce looked at her as though he had never seen her before.

"I'm Catarina Holmes. Nice to meet you, sir." She joked, shaking Bruce's hand.

"And that, my lady, suits you." He said, kissing the top of her hand.

"One more thing."

"Anything." Bruce replied, his eyes mirroring her face.

"Can we get married in Spain?" Selina looked at him hopefully.

"As you wish."

* * *

"Can I help?" Jason looked towards Blake, towelling off his hair. Blake was midway through a background check.

"Not really," Blake said, his fingers holding his chin, his eyes scanning the flicking computer screen. Jason went quiet for a moment, finally slinging the towel around his neck.

"I meant…" He put his fingers in his belt. "I meant at night. When you put the mask on." He paused and ruffled his hair, bringing out the remaining droplets. "Can I help Nightwing?"

Blake turned his eyes up from the computer screen to the boy's. He scrutinized him for a moment. "Fine." He absorbed Jason's excitement. "But you have to wear a mask."

* * *

Jason spent the next couple of days putting together sketches and prototypes, while Blake continued to staff the boys' home during the day, and fight criminals by night.

"How about Dino-Boy?" Jason asked Alfred.

"Sir?" Alfred asked, puzzled.

"As my name. Nightwing's sidekick isn't catchy enough." Jason jotted a few more ideas onto a piece of paper.

"Consider, sir, not what sounds good for a change, but what means something to you."

Jason's pen stopped moving and he froze, a recurring memory taking him by surprise.

_He was flipping through the air, the wind whistling by, a hand outstretched to catch him. It caught his arm firmly, swinging him to a trapeze. His legs hooked around the bar, and he used the momentum of his arc to swing him again. He let go of the bar, the crowd cheering as he twisted skilfully towards the platform, 20 metres from the ground. Someone was waiting for him. They slapped his back in congratulations and looked at Jason happily through fierce blue eyes. "Boy, you fly like a Robin." Pride welled in him as his brother said this. It was the last thing he would say before he fell._

"Robin." Jason murmured with certainty. "I know its Blake's first name, but that's the name that means the most to me."

"Very well, sir." Alfred nodded. "Sir, I ask with all you vigilantes, but why a Robin?" He tilted his head, his white hair glowing in the dull light.

"It was the last thing my brother said to me." Alfred nodded, Jason's eyes went red as he spoke. "He said, 'You fly like a Robin.'" Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his composure as his heart gave way. "It was the last thing he said to me before he died."


End file.
